


like a fucking greek god (or the son of one)

by prouvairing



Series: Demigod AU [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demigods, Alternate Universe - Percy Jackson Fusion, Gen, Pre-Relationship, R braiding flowers in Jehan's hair, tons of Daddy Issues for all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 19:23:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvairing/pseuds/prouvairing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jehan exploits Grantaire's influence over plants and R doesn't deal with his abandonment issues as well as he would like. And so he leaves (Eponine isn't impressed).</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a fucking greek god (or the son of one)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a firm believer in the fact that every fandom at any point needs a demigod!AU. They're way too much fun. (Also, how many times has Enjolras been compared to a (fucking) greek god? Exactly.)

Enjolras reaches camp by some miracle when he is eleven years old.

He comes chased by harpies, a competent satyr pulling him along, and his pretty button-down shirt is a disaster, his khaki pants are mud-stained and his blond curls fly every which way.

Grantaire, perched by the pine tree on top of the hill (where he hides, as always) does not think, _princess curls._

Enjolras takes the news better than most (adultery was not such a surprise, and the godly part of things goes down surprisingly easy). He is claimed all of ten minutes after setting foot at camp. But really, why wouldn’t Apollo want to claim responsibility for _that_?

And if he gets in an argument with Mr. D the following day (over the abuse of satyrs) and somehow doesn’t get turned into a dolphin, well… they will all soon figure out that that isn’t surprising either.

*

Grantaire was also claimed as soon as he walked into camp, but for a very different reason and with no fancy holograms (what would his be, anyway? A bottle of wine?)

And he _had_ also gotten into a fight with his father, but for no other reason than said father being a huge asshole. And, yeah, Grantaire didn’t deal with his abandonment issues half as gracefully as Enjolras did. Sue him.

He’d spent a week as a pig for his trouble.

(Much less fun than the time he’d pissed off Enjolras himself, when they were eleven, and was cursed to sing his thoughts at every turn like an itinerant High School Musical – which he’d ended up enjoying immensely, much to Enjolras’ dismay).

“Something on your mind, dear friend?” Jehan asks, somewhere at the edge of his attention.

“What makes you think so?” says Grantaire, popping a strawberry in his mouth, if only because he knows it will irritate his father.

“Well, the vines are trying to crawl up my nose, so…”

Grantaire turns and sees that, indeed, the vines he’s been weaving in Jehan’s hair have made a mess of it, and have taken to wandering across the boy’s face as well.

“Shit! Sorry, man,” he mutters, and waves a hand to make the vines slither back out of Jehan’s hair. It remains hopelessly tangled, and the other boy sighs, before fishing a comb out of his bright pink shorts (which go with his orange camp shirt almost as well as a punch in the eye).  Grantaire plucks it out of his hands and scoots up to thread his fingers through the dark blonde curls. “Let me. I’m really sorry, I stopped paying attention.”

“I noticed,” Jehan says, peaceably. He’s been in a decidedly better mood since he’s been claimed, almost a year after his arrival at camp. Everyone had been mildly confused by the writing tablet that had appeared in shimmering gold over Jehan’s head – that is, until Combeferre (in true Athena camper fashion) had announced very seriously, _all hail Jean Prouvaire, son of Calliope._

Jehan now sits in the strawberry fields, one of Grantaire’s hiding spots of choice, and like every morning since he has arrived at camp, takes advantage of his friend’s influence over plants. He turns slightly to flash Grantaire a positively Hermes-like grin (he _has_ been camping in Cabin 11 and that hasn’t changed), and says, “Maybe I should get one of the Demeter kids to take your place?”

Grantaire snorts. “As if. You’d miss my witty banter.”

“And your mooning over Apollo kids,” Jehan replies, and Grantaire can practically _hear_ the smug smile in his voice.

“If that’s a pun, Prouvaire, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

Jehan shrugs, as Grantaire finishes carefully combing through his hair. “Not intended. Out of curiosity, what flowers were you going for this time?”

“I was trying jasmine, but it wasn’t really going well. Do you mind if we do strawberry today?” Grantaire says, like it’s the most normal conversation one can have, like everyone just casually talks about growing strawberry blossoms by magic, and weaving them in their friend’s hair. (Like anyone even knows strawberry blossoms are a thing).

But Grantaire has had an awful lot of practice with strawberries, and very little with, you know, actual grapevines, which should be his best.

“No problem, dearest,” says Jehan, but if Grantaire hopes he will drop the subject, he is sadly mistaken. “So you totally weren’t thinking about a certain blond Cabin 6 fellow, right?”

Grantaire groans, and starts plaiting Jehan’s hair. “You gotta be more specific, Jehan. Aren’t they all blond?”

If Jehan rolls his eyes, Grantaire doesn’t see it, as he is too busy growing strawberry plants in his braid (properly, this time) and making them bloom.

“There,” he says instead, and releases Jehan. Small white flowers now dot the dark blond prettily. The boy flashes him a blindingly bright smile.

Grantaire is almost sorry to shatter it, when he tells him (and he does because, Enjolras aside, he tells Jehan everything, owes Jehan too much for the simple grace of being his friend).

“I’m thinking of leaving camp for winter.”

*

Jehan always goes home for winter, but in saying goodbye he hugs Grantaire extra-hard, this year. At twelve, Jehan is so tiny that Grantaire could lift him off his feet, but his arms are iron.

“Prouvaire – can’t – breathe!”

“Sssh, I’m getting my fix, stocking up for winter, okay?”

It’s like he knows.

Spring comes and passes and soon it’s summer again. And Grantaire does not come back.

*

Eponine manages to find him when he comes back around New Jersey.

It takes him all of two years, and only because the West Coast is a fucking nightmare, so he tends to wander East.

“ _You – you big jerk!_ ” she says, by way of greeting, complete with swirling green mist and glowing eyes. “ _Where the hell have you been?_ ”

Grantaire flinches with the guilt stabbing at his stomach, but manages to grin. “Are you out of shape, ‘Ponine? Pretty sure that didn’t rhyme.”

Eponine sighs, closes her eyes, gets the spirit of Delphi in check. Her eyes don’t glow green, but they still shine.

(It’s not tears. It isn’t.)

She all but tackles him and Grantaire returns her hug.

*

By the mighty powers of Dionysus, Grantaire finds them a party.

It’s someone’s prom, to be precise, and someone has spiked the punch (bless them), which makes it even easier to spot. Grantaire sneaks them in, despite the fact that he’s wearing a week-old shirt and ripped jeans, and Eponine is still in Camp Half Blood orange.

They are at once invisible, shrouded in Mist, forgettable… and the life of the party. Grantaire holds out a hand and Eponine takes it, laughing. They sway to a song that is not the one booming out of the speakers.

“We miss you,” she tells him, and he snorts. “What? I’m the Oracle. I don’t lie.”

“Well,” Grantaire replies, avoiding her eyes. “I don’t miss _it_. I’ll take the monsters any day, thank you.”

Eponine steps on his foot and he’s not all too sure that it was an accident.  “But you miss _us._ ”

He doesn’t correct her, and she continues, “It was a bit of a tragedy, really. Jehan was a mess, the first summer. Had to teach a Demeter kid to do his hair, and he made her cry. Almost got cursed for his trouble, before Combeferre came. And Enjolras kept stopping during speeches, like he was waiting for someone to contradict him.”

“I’m sure he was devastated.”

“He got this confused frown on his face, actually. Would have been fun, if it weren’t so sad.” She pauses, peers at his face. “Is he the reason you left?”

Now, there’s a ridiculous question. Grantaire stares at their feet, as they keep swaying this way and that. No, Enjolras was not the reason he left: he would have taken his speeches, his fiery glares and the disappointment and disgust in his eyes. He would have taken it all, and he would have rejoiced in his light. Enjolras, to be honest, was the reason he had stayed so long.

He shakes his head at Eponine, and curls up his mouth in a self-deprecating smile. “Nah. Was the _other_ bane of my existence.”

“Oh.”

They remain quiet, and Eponine lays her head on Grantaire’s shoulder, even though this is no slow dance. “His probation is over in a few years,” she comments, letting the statement hang.

“Well, good,” Grantaire says, trying to keep it light. “So I can finally materialize wine, for real. You know, he’s got this obsession with _if I can’t, nobody can!_ and we’re all forced to live on sparkling grape juice.”

That makes her laugh and Grantaire counts it as a victory. But she elbows him, then, and says, “ _And_ , once he’s left camp, you can come back.”

He doesn’t answer.

They both remember that none of them can really know whether they’ll survive the next few years.

**Author's Note:**

> On R's relationship with Mr. D: In canon, Mr. D actually seems a pretty good father to Castor and Pollux, following Pollux out after Castor's funeral to make sure he's ok, etc. However a relationship goes two ways and R is very different from the twins, plus a bunch of unresolved issues. And I think a whole lot of communication goes wrong between the two of them (not unlike how it goes between Enjolras and Grantaire). I hope I'll get that across better, in the future.
> 
> As for the timeline of this, it's pretty fuzzy. It would be in a hypothetical "future", as Mr D is only halfway through his "probation" in Lightning Thief and here he is only two or three years away from its end. However, Percy's request to the Olympians (that demigods be always claimed and that cabins be made for minor gods) never came to pass... mainly because Enjolras needed a cause. Shhh, just roll with it.
> 
> I live [here](http://seagreeneyes.tumblr.com) and the fic lives here [here](http://prouvairing.tumblr.com), do come say hello!


End file.
